seemed cold enough for a mausoleum, where a lady in black took me in her
arms and convulsively held me there, weeping as if her heart would break.



V


Sometimes a fancy, rather vague, comes to me of seeing the soldiers go
off to the Mexican War and of making flags striped with pokeberry
juice--somehow the name of the fruit was mingled with that of the
President--though a visit quite a year before to The Hermitage, which
adjoined the farm of an uncle, to see General Jackson is still uneffaced.

I remember it vividly. The old hero dandled me in his arms, saying "So this
is Harvey's boy," I looking the while in vain for the "hickory," of which I
had heard so much.

On the personal side history owes General Jackson reparation. His
personality needs indeed complete reconstruction in the popular mind, which
misconceives him a rough frontiersman having few or none of the social
graces. In point of fact he came into the world a gentleman, a leader, a
knight-errant who captivated women and dominated men.

I shared when a young man the common belief about him. But there is ample
proof of the error of this. From middle age, though he ever liked a horse
race, he was a regular if not a devout churchman. He did not swear at all,
"by the Eternal" or any other oath. When he reached New Orleans in 1814 to
take command of the army, Governor Claiborne gave him a dinner; and after
he had gone Mrs. Claiborne, who knew European courts and society better